


Hunger

by Classic_Rocker2000



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Blood, Brian shows up for a bit at the start, Character Turned Into Vampire, I'm still trying to figure out the whole writing ships thing, M/M, Paranormal, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27322063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Classic_Rocker2000/pseuds/Classic_Rocker2000
Summary: Paul comes down with a mysterious illness and turns into a vampire. True to form, John with him the entire time.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16
Collections: Halloqueer 2020





	Hunger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Casafrass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casafrass/gifts).



**1966**

Paul had been seriously ill for almost the past week now, and John had stayed by his side every waking moment he possibly could.

Presently, sweat laced Paul’s brow, and he could barely keep his eyes open. John hated seeing him like this. He wanted desperately to take away Paul’s pain and see him back to his usual chipper self. Of course, he knew it wasn’t possible. John didn’t even know what was wrong with Paul. He just knew that several nights ago, this had started when John found Paul collapsed against the front door. The first day or two after that had been fine, and while Paul was more tired, it seemed like he would recover. Then on the third day, Paul started to get worse, with seemingly no explanation whatsoever.

It had been two nights since then, and Paul was worse than he’d been the entire time since his collapse. John had tried to call the doctor the night before, but Paul had lashed out at him in a way that seemed entirely out of character. Worse, when John tried to talk to him about it several hours later, Paul seemingly had no memory of the event.

For his part, Paul could feel his heartbeat get progressively weaker. He couldn’t explain it, but something inside him told him he was dying. Though he was barely conscious now, Paul was still frightened all the same. If these truly were his last moments, he feared what happened next. Would there be an afterlife? Would he stick around as a ghost? Above all, how would John take this?

Paul already knew the answer to that last one: Not well at all.

Through the murky haze of this limbo between life and death, Paul heard the doorbell ring through dulled hearing. For the first time since Paul had woken up some time prior, John left Paul’s side to look out the front door. “It’s Eppy,” he said.

Paul knew his end was swiftly approaching, so he said, in a barely audible whisper, “Why don’t you go see what he wants?”

Through Paul’s blurry vision, he could see John shaking his head back and forth. “No, Paul… I won’t leave you. Not like this.”

Paul lifted his head slightly, and with unfocused eyes, replied, “John. I’ll be right here when you back. …I promise.”

It was a half-truth. Paul knew that he’d most likely be dead by the time John got back, but he knew John had already been severely affected by the deaths of his mother and Stuart. He didn’t want to add to that by having John be in the room seeing it.

He couldn’t tell whether John believed him or not, but either way, John got up, kissed him on the lips, and walked out the door, stealing once last glance at Paul before he headed downstairs. Paul lingered for a few more moments, but finally, the pull on his eyelids was too great. He closed his eyes and felt his heart come to a slow stop.

Meanwhile, John opened the front door to find Brian, looking more haggard than usual. John thought that understandable though, considering the state Paul was in. With a tired voice, he said, “Hello, John.”

“Hey, Bri.”

“…How’s Paul doing.”

John tensed up. “Truth be told, I just really wish he weren’t so damn insistent on me not calling a doctor. Today’s the worst he’s been.”

Given the look on Brian’s face, John realized he shouldn’t have led off with that. “John, why on earth would you listen to him when he’s no doubt delirious?!”

John didn’t have a good answer. Instead, he started with, “I tried a couple days ago. He said he’d never talk to me again.”

“And you believed him?!”

“He’s pretty damn stubborn-“

“I’m aware of that, John.”

John sighed, knowing this was an argument he had no chance in hell of winning. Resuming an air of compassion, Brian asked, “When you said he’s doing worse today, how sick is he?”

John thought for a moment, and against his better judgement, decided to be truthful about most things (except for the fact that Paul was basically lying on death’s door). “Well, drifting in and out, but last I knew, his breathing and heartbeat were still strong.”

After a moment or two of silence, Brian continued, “John, please do me a favour. If he gets any worse, please send for an ambulance. I don’t care how much he protests or begs you not to. …I’d hate for anything to happen to one of you.”

“Will do.”

Meanwhile, back upstairs, Paul wondered why his consciousness hadn’t faded. He’d felt his heart stop, his breathing had stilled and yet… he was still here.

Paul knew something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t place his finger on what. Then he noticed that as the seconds passed, he noticed could hear John and Brian talking. At first it was quiet and muffled, but it gradually grew louder and louder until Paul could hear every word, every inflection, every awkward pause. He could hear as Brian fussed over him, and as John tried his best to reassure the older man that he would be fine, despite what Paul knew to be true.

He knew it shouldn’t be possible. He tried moving an arm, even slightly, but his muscles stubbornly refused to budge. Worse yet, he could hear the conversation end, and then a few minutes later, Brian got in his car and drove off. Paul desperately hoped that John wouldn’t come back upstairs just yet. He knew something was bound to happen, but he didn’t want John to see him in this state.

Seconds passed. He could hear John grabbing a glass of water. He didn’t know if it was for himself or John, but he had his suspicions. As Paul felt an odd sensation in his gums, he also felt a finger twitch. It was a hopeful sign to say the least, but he knew that if John saw him at this very moment, he knew that John would take him for dead.

Well, in a sense, he was dead, but Paul could feel his body changing in ways he was certain couldn’t be attributed to the early stages of decomposition.

And then, just as John finished making his way up the steps, Paul sat bolt upright, gasping for breath. Everything was bright, even though Paul was certain the lights had been turned off earlier due to a migraine he’d had that was now pleasantly absent. Looking around, he also noticed his vision was much sharper than it had been before. If he really focused, he could see more of the threads in the sheet than he ever had before.

Before Paul could even begin to comprehend the implications, John opened the door to find Paul sitting upright, almost as if nothing had been the matter at all. John knew it was strange, considering how dire Paul’s condition had been, but his heart soared at the thought that maybe, just maybe, the fever had broken, and Paul would be okay.

Meanwhile, Paul realized he could hear John’s heartbeat drumming away in his chest. It sounded almost like one of Ringo’s drumbeats, and it was something that soothed Paul’s frayed nerves to a small extent. Then John’s voice, sounding loud in his ears, brought him back to reality: “Paul, love? You alright?”

 _God, how the hell am I supposed to answer that?!_ Paul knew being a member of the living dead was quite a bit different compared to being actually dead, but above anything and everything, he feared that John would react to the fact that he’d technically died.

After a few more moments, Paul replied, “I dunno.”

John could sense something wasn’t quite right. Granted, he’d wanted Paul to get better, but this seemed a little… fast. Against his better judgement though, John sat next to Paul, setting the glass down on the end table right beside the bed. Paul tensed a little, but quickly relaxed again.

While John’s head was resting on Paul’s shoulder, Paul couldn’t help but stare at John. He couldn’t remember if he’d had an appetite before now, but there was a sweet aroma in the air that made Paul start to salivate. Slowly, he started to forget the fact that he’d just died and woke up again. Almost before he could stop himself, he asked, “John? Do you smell that?”

“Smell what?”

On any other day, this might have frightened Paul, but he was starting to lose himself in the scent and the steady beat of John’s heart. Instead, he continued, “That smell… It’s kind of like… I dunno.. It’s definitely sweet and sugary though.”

John was starting to get concerned. He hadn’t even had dinner himself, partly because he’d been too busy fussing over Paul, who’d lost his appetite earlier in the day. “Paulie? You hallucinating or something?”

Paul’s brow scrunched in confusion. “John, I’m not hallucinating. I promise.”

The next thing Paul knew, he felt the back of John’s head against his forehead. Just as quickly, John pulled it away, muttering, “What the fuck?!”

“John?”

John grabbed Paul’s left hand, causing him to flinch once more. Then he said, “Paul… Your skin’s ice cold…”

“Wh-what?” Paul had expected his skin to be a bit colder, given his heart was still and lifeless in his chest, but it seemed implausible that it’d gotten that cold that fast.

Instead of giving him a straight answer, John ran out of the room, his heart pounding like a drum. He came back maybe a minute or two later grasping a thermometer. The last John knew, Paul’s temperature had been almost forty degrees. Sitting in front of Paul, he said, “Paulie, you know how this works…”

Reluctantly, Paul nodded, and allowed John to stick the thermometer in his mouth. He could see John’s eyes widen in confusion and fright, and he muttered, “It’s not even moving…”

“John?”

By now, the amber-haired man was starting to hyperventilate as he got up again. Paul knew that he barely understood what was going on himself, but he wished he knew anything he could say to try and alleviate John’s fear. But then he remembered that he was undead, and once more, the fears of what John would say or do if he found out returned.

Unexpectedly, a blinding flash of light filled the room, causing Paul to let out an involuntary hiss as he recoiled, burying his face in his pillow.

Of course, this only added to John’s concerns. As he placed a hand on his lover’s back, he said, “Jesus Paul, I only turned on a lamp…”

Paul’s voice was muffled somewhat by the pillow, but he let out a whimper and bemoaned, “It hurts…”

“What hurts?”

“The light… It hurts my eyes…”

Finally, John noticed something. Aside from Paul’s skin being even paler than it had been barely an hour ago, he caught sight of Paul’s left hand, more specifically, the nail on his thumb. As John carefully took Paul’s hand in his, he noticed how Paul’s nails were longer and sharper, more resembling claws than anything.

A bit rougher than he meant, John flipped Paul onto his back. Paul’s eyes were still screwed tightly shut, and his breathing came in short gasps through clenched teeth. Speaking of that, Paul’s two front teeth and canines had gotten longer and pointier, resembling more the fangs of a vampire bat than human teeth.

And then John understood.

Not helping matters was when Paul opened his eyes slightly, revealing two crimson irises in place of the beautiful hazel John knew so well.

John wasn’t sure whether to stay by Paul’s bedside, scream, or run away.

Slowly, Paul’s eyes adjusted to the light. The room was still brighter than it would have been had he still been human, but slowly, things came back into focus.

And that included John’s horrified face.

“John…”

John remained still, staring at Paul.

In that moment, it became painfully clear to Paul that he was now a vampire. Worse yet, John’s heartbeat was extremely fast, and Paul felt himself salivate more at the thought of what John’s blood might taste like. He tried everything to ignore it, but the hunger he felt was growing more intense by the second.

Desperate to quench his thirst, he asked, “John? C-Can I please see that glass of water you brought up?”

John nodded nervously and handed the glass off to Paul. He hoped that the water would at least give him enough time to figure out what he was going to do. Instead, the second the water passed through his lips, Paul began coughing it up, causing John to take the glass out of Paul’s hand. He could hear all the fear and worry in John’s voice as he shouted, “Paul! What happened?!”

As soon as Paul was able to stop coughing, he said, “I don’t know. …It was like dust in my mouth.”

In that moment, they both realized that Paul could no longer take sustenance from human food or drink. From now on, the only thing that would keep Paul alive was blood.

Paul let out a strangled sob, causing John to wrap him tightly in a hug. Part of Paul wished he wouldn’t, as he was still fighting every instinct that told him to drink John’s blood. But another part of him was grateful that John hadn’t fled. “What’re we gonna do, John?” Paul asked, distracting himself. “What are we going to tell Eppy?”

“I don’t know. Think you’ll still be able to walk in the sun?”

“I have no idea… Even then, I don’t wanna hurt any of you.”

“Do you remember any of the attacks?”

“No, not really. I just remember being okay one minute, sick the next, and undead now.”

John refused to let Paul go, despite it being against his better judgement. Obviously, there was nothing to prepare either himself or Paul for the realities of vampirism, but John would be damned if he didn’t at least try to do something.

And that was when he came up with one, truly stupid idea. “Paul,” John started, “I know this is crazy, but-”

Almost instantly, Paul understood what John was suggesting. “No! No, absolutely not! I-I won’t see you hurt, dead, or vampirized because of me!”

“Paul think about it. You were doing okay the first couple days, and then you just started getting worse. I’m thinking if it’s only once, every so often…”

“No, John, please…”

“Paul, it’ll be okay. I promise.”

Part of Paul wanted to protest further, but the hunger was far too intense. Taking John’s wrist, he pulled the sleeve back, prompting John to say, “Figured you’d be going for me neck.”

Paul shrugged it off as best as he could and asked, “John? Are you absolutely sure about this?”

“Not really. But I also don’t want you to go crazy…”

Before John could get another word out, Paul bared his fangs before sinking his fangs into John’s wrist. As soon as he felt blood welling up from the wounds, Paul removed his fangs, but left his lips tightly sealed around the wound, sucking on it, and getting his fill. The taste of blood was something Paul wasn’t sure was comparable to anything he’d had in his previous, human life, but it was almost sickly sweet. The only thing keeping him remotely attached to the world at large was the fact that John’s free hand was pressed firmly against his back. Paul was surprised John wasn’t putting up a fight, but then he remembered this had been John’s idea to begin with.

Finally, Paul felt the thirst subside, and slowly, he let go of John’s wrist. John looked woozy, but John’s heartbeat was steady in his chest, and his breathing was still fine. Still, John let himself collapse against Paul’s shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t scare Paul any further.

“John? …How’re you feeling?”

John had to think for a minute. He felt tired, sure, but at the same time, he didn’t feel like he was dying. Eventually, he answered, “Alright, I guess…”

Paul let out a small sigh of relief as he felt his fangs morph back into their normal, human shapes. Though his heart remained lifeless in his chest, Paul did feel a bit warmer, which he hadn’t expected given that he hadn’t really felt cold, but it was nice, nonetheless. Similarly, John noticed as Paul’s claws retracted and morphed back into fingernails.

Allowing himself to hold John in an embrace, he started, “John, you realize that was stupid, right?”

“I know,” John muttered. “But hey, I’m not dead…”

Paul chuckled slightly, almost marveling at how John’s typical sense of humor seemed to pervade just about any scenario. Again, his thoughts turned to the impending sunrise, which wouldn’t come for maybe nine or ten hours. While the bloodlust was sated for now, Paul knew he had plenty more problems to worry about than just that, and he knew he had no way to prepare for every possibility.

Then, a light snoring broke his concentration. He looked down and noticed John had fallen asleep against his chest. Paul let out an amused scoff. Part of him still worried about the potential danger John would be in if they stuck together, but at the same time, John had been by his side since 1957, and even more so since that trip to Paris in 1961 when John had drunkenly confessed his love to Paul. The only thing Paul wanted right now was to try and figure this out, and most importantly, he wanted to make sure that John remained not only living, but also human.

As long as those two facts were true, that was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween, everybody! As per usual for me, comments, kudos, and constructive criticism are all greatly appreciated. :3
> 
> Also, I would like to apologize for anything that progressed too fast or any out-of-character moments


End file.
